


I'm All In

by ZombieCheeze



Series: Make Me A Sandwich [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Double Penetration, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieCheeze/pseuds/ZombieCheeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris and Chanyeol are on the prowl.  Yixing is more than a match for their game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm All In

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written/posted July 2013. Part 2 of Sandwich.

 

Dancing is his job.

 

Yixing is so used to having every single flex of muscle, every fluid motion perfectly coordinated and honed down to razor-sharp precision that when faced with the chance to ad-lib his dancing, he finds it hard to forget his muscle memory.  The club isn’t the place for music video choreography.

 

Half a beer in, though, he’s feeling pretty relaxed, and his body starts to move automatically to the music, swaying hip-tilts giving way to more pronounced body rolls.  He finds it funny that, every time they come here, it takes him a few minutes to shake out the shyness of dancing in public.

 

The brilliant lights slash through the darkness, drawing him out onto the floor; the thud of bass keeps him there, pressing all the right nerves until he can’t help it anymore, and he joins the frothing crowd as it pushes, rushes, grinds together in a mass.

 

He dances with a pretty blonde girl for a moment, but she moves on soon afterward; Yixing can see she’s in pursuit of Sehun, who’s dancing with Luhan.  He doesn’t have to see them clearly to tell she’s out of luck.  Jongin slides into her place momentarily, jokingly rolling up against him with hands on his hips before slipping away and disappearing between two extremely drunk girls clinging to one another to stay upright, and that little touch is enough to break a sweat on Yixing’s forehead.

 

He blames the heat and the crush of bodies around him, and maybe a little on the beer; his mesh tank top is already sticking gently to his body in the humidity and exertion.  Yixing wipes it away with a stylish (or so he hopes) sweep of his hand and closes his eyes, not even thinking anymore.  It’s exhilarating to forgo the expected in favor of the spontaneous.

 

A hand slides over his ribs from behind, gliding down his side to settle on his waist, and Yixing doesn’t mind if someone wants to dance with him as hips press against his backside, matching his rhythm fluidly.

 

Yixing doesn’t open his eyes as he trails his fingers over the back of the hand gripping his midriff, encouraging it to stay there, feeling goosebumps erupt over his skin as long fingers squeeze his waist ever so gently.  His eyes slit open just slightly as a chin rests on his shoulder, cheek pressed against the edge of Yixing’s jaw, just enough contact to be suggestive.

 

Chanyeol is wending his way through the thronging dance floor too, holding his drink up to keep from spilling it as he’s jostled this way and that.  He’s coming toward Yixing without actually making eye contact, and Yixing ignores him in favor of the warmth of the body dancing with him, of the way a stray breath tickles the curve of his neck and makes every nerve in his body tingle.  The size of the hand makes him sure it’s a man he’s dancing with, and he’s impressed the guy can keep up with him.

 

He doesn’t know if it’s the beat of the music, or the weak buzz he’s maintaining, or just the brush of air against his neck, but _something_ makes him feel daring, impulsive.  He arches his back just as the hand on his waist creeps slightly under the hem of his shirt, his hips jerking back slightly, grinding just so against the stranger’s.

 

He doesn’t even know who’s touching him, but he’s already too far gone to resist.

 

Chanyeol saunters up to him just as Yixing’s partner turns just slightly, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear.

 

“Feeling feisty tonight, aren’t we, Yixing?” Kris murmurs, barely above a whisper, but Yixing hears him perfectly.

 

Chanyeol has started dancing right in front of him, and Yixing is putting two and two together, albeit with his typical slowness, further crippled by confusion.  It’s impossible to suppress the shiver that ripples through his body when Kris’s hand squeezes his waist again, flicking his thumb against the sheer fabric until it slips beneath the hem to rest hot against his hipbone.

 

It’s too loud to be heard over the music, but it doesn’t matter because Yixing is speechless.  He’s standing stock-still, Kris still gripping his hip under his shirt, on fire with puzzlement.  Chanyeol moves a little closer, sets his hand on Yixing’s opposite hip, pressing gently as if to make him dance.

 

Chanyeol leans in to Yixing’s other side to speak into his ear, and he can’t hear a fucking thing, but it’s clear that he’s pretty drunk because his lips mash against Yixing’s ear wetly.  The touch sends a ripple of heat over his skin in response.

 

Yixing’s confused, so confused.  Kris’s hand is creeping upward under his shirt and Chanyeol’s all but licking his ear and against everything he ever expected, he feels himself getting hard.

 

Kris is rocking from side to side, guiding Yixing’s hips with his hands.  “Dance.” Kris whispers, and Yixing does, because he has no idea what else to do.  Chanyeol takes another step closer, even though it doesn’t seem like he can _get_ any closer, and oh, Yixing is _definitely_ hard now, because Chanyeol starts dancing with them both and just barely grinding their hips together.  It’s too much.

 

Yixing can’t breathe and he’s not sure if it’s the heat or the way Kris and Chanyeol are caging him in, Kris’s hand on his right hip and Chanyeol’s on his left, Kris’s lips against the curve of his jaw and Chanyeol’s chest bumping his rhythmically.

 

Kris’s hand is sliding up, up, resting high on his ribs just shy of his nipple, and Chanyeol presses a hot palm to the exposed skin of his belly.  Yixing gasps helplessly, his hips shifting to the beat as every ounce of consciousness he possesses goes straight to the contact points of Kris’s and Chanyeol’s hands.  He’s so hard he can barely think straight.  Kris and Chanyeol know exactly what they’re doing.

 

“Ge,” he says out loud, at least he thinks he does, but he can’t hear himself, can only feel the intense rumble of the music and the way his skin is crawling with eager anticipation.  Chanyeol and Kris are pulling him apart at the seams and he’s helpless to resist.

 

“Hyung?” Chanyeol murmurs in his ear, and Yixing swallows hard.  “You okay?”

 

But there’s a teasing sort of dry humor to Chanyeol’s voice and in the way he purposely leans just a little too close, and Yixing reaches up and slowly clenches his fist into the front of Chanyeol’s shirt.

 

He feels Kris’s teeth scrape the side of his neck just before Chanyeol swoops in and crushes their lips together, and the moan that escapes him would have been awkwardly loud in a quieter environment.  As it is, it takes all his effort to keep standing, much less police his reactions.

 

Chanyeol’s eager, but gentle.  Yixing’s never kissed Chanyeol before.  Kris, yeah, but that was an accident.  He’s going to keep telling himself that.  He isn’t quite sure how either of them work into each other’s plans, but he’s too far gone to be concerned about it.

 

He was lost the moment Kris’s hand slipped onto his waist and kept time with his hips.  Chanyeol’s the torch to his weak resolve, prying apart the joins of Yixing’s resistance with the glide of his hot mouth.

 

Yixing breaks away from kissing Chanyeol solely for the purpose of getting at least half a breath into his lungs, but when Chanyeol’s fingers tease the bare skin just above his belt line, Yixing distinctly feels how hard they both are on either side of him.  The breath he’s struggling to suck in catches in his throat instead.

 

“I think it’s time to get out of here, hyung.” Chanyeol murmurs in his ear, and Yixing feels himself nodding dumbly, not trusting his voice in the slightest.  Kris takes Yixing’s right hand in his own, Chanyeol his left, and together, they head for the exit.

 

*

 

Yixing bursts out of the club door like a man surfacing from deep water.  The outside air is almost chilly in contrast to the hot dampness of the club, and he sucks a breath in greedily.  He doesn’t seem to be cooling off, though, because Kris has a hand on the back of his neck, and it’s just this side of ticklish and keeping him on tenterhooks.

 

So maybe it wasn’t just the club or the alcohol that’s making him horny.  Yixing glances up at Chanyeol, then at Kris, who are both wearing identical expressions, eyes raking Yixing’s barely-dressed body with ill-controlled eagerness.  Gooseflesh shivers over him again.

 

“Shall we?” Kris asks after a long moment of silence, and Yixing swallows and nods again.  Chanyeol wraps a long arm around his shoulder, Kris around his waist, and to anyone else they just look like three drunk kids coming from the club.  Yixing’s not drunk, but he’s not exactly lucid with all the hormones slamming through his system right now.

 

They lead Yixing not back to the dorm, but to a hotel not far from the club.  Yixing raises an eyebrow at Kris.  “A hotel?” He asks dryly as Chanyeol punches the elevator button repeatedly.

 

“Joonmyun complained.” Kris says simply, and a hysterical laugh bubbles out of Yixing’s mouth.

 

“You _planned_ this?” He asks, just a touch incredulously.

 

“Well, sort of,” Chanyeol shrugs.  “When we go out, we book a room.  Whether someone comes with us or not, at least we don’t have to worry about keeping everyone else up.” And then he’s dragging Yixing into the elevator and pinning him to the wall before the doors even close.  Yixing’s little yelp of surprise is muted by Chanyeol’s mouth slanting over his own again.

 

Kris reaches around them both, settling his hands on Yixing’s hips and pressing all of them together tightly.  Chanyeol gives a tiny moan and grinds against Yixing subtly, just enough for the friction to make Yixing gasp into his mouth and unconsciously press forward.

 

The chime of the elevator makes them break apart, but with a certain reluctance, even though Yixing starts as the doors slide open.  Kris is breathless but calm as he slips out of the elevator doors past the staring couple on the other side, followed by a visibly flustered Chanyeol and flushed, tousle-haired Yixing.

 

Kris punches the code into the door and it swings inward, and Yixing finds himself shunted through it as though they’re all in a hurry.  Chanyeol grabs Yixing again to push him against the wall, but Kris’s hand catches him around the upper arm and pulls him back.

 

“Let him breathe, Chanyeol.” Kris murmurs, wrapping one arm around Yixing’s waist to pull him close, and taking Chanyeol’s chin in the other hand.  Chanyeol’s eyes flicker closed and he parts his lips like he’s waiting for a kiss, but Kris makes him wait for it, lips brushing together almost imperceptibly, until Chanyeol bites his lower lip in anticipation.

 

Yixing watches closely, sensing rather than seeing Kris’s power over Chanyeol.  Chanyeol’s pliant in his hold, but impatient, urgent, thrumming with need, and Kris uses this to his advantage, keeping him in suspension like a dog pulling at his leash.

 

Chanyeol makes a strained noise in his throat, almost pleading; he grips Yixing’s shoulder as if to ground himself.  Kris presses his lips to Chanyeol’s softly, teasingly, and Chanyeol lets out a whine, Kris’s thumb dimpling the flesh along Chanyeol’s jaw.  It’s incredible to watch, the way Chanyeol melts into Kris, the slow slide of their mouths making Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrow in frustrated eagerness.

 

Kris breaks the kiss after a few moments, leaning back with Chanyeol’s lower lip caught between his teeth.  His voice is a growl.  “Yixing.”

 

“Mmm?” Yixing hums, too caught up in what’s playing out in front of him to remember he’s still part of the game.

 

“Do you want to play with us?” Chanyeol finishes the question, tongue swiping out over his swollen lip.  Yixing nods dumbly.

 

“Good.” Kris cups his chin and tips his head up slightly.  “Because we have so many good things planned tonight.  You’re lucky.”

 

“Lucky?” Yixing squeaks out, and Kris leans in and presses his lips to Yixing’s slightly open mouth.  Chanyeol chuckles softly in the background, and Yixing feels him jostling around as a warm mouth slides up the side of his neck.  It isn’t ticklish this time; Yixing feels his stomach lurch, twisting in tight pleasure.

 

“Definitely lucky.” Chanyeol whispers, nibbling the lobe of Yixing’s ear, and Yixing moans pathetically, grabbing at Kris’s bicep with one hand, the other flying back to press a hand to Chanyeol’s lower back.  Chanyeol grinds his hips lightly against Yixing’s ass, both hands dragging up his chest and gathering the transparent mesh of his shirt until it’s bunched up under his armpits.  “I wish I were in your place right now.”

 

Yixing feels almost as if he’s being fought over.  For every crush of Kris’s mouth there’s a responding rub or press from Chanyeol on the other side, for every pull of Kris’s hands there’s a responding tug of teeth or fingers from Chanyeol, as if determined to smash him flat, or undo him piece by piece, between them.  The collective heat of their hands all over his body is already wringing the breath out of him.

 

“I think it’s time to get you naked.” Kris breaks away from Yixing’s mouth, ignoring the whine of disappointment Yixing makes.  Chanyeol wastes no time in peeling the thin shirt over Yixing’s head.

 

“Not that he wasn’t most of the way there already,” Chanyeol remarks, holding up the shirt to his eye to look through it.  “We could see everything through this, hyung.”

 

Yixing only makes a quiet noise as Kris presses a lean thigh between his legs, gripping his belt to rein him in.  He tips his head back onto Chanyeol’s shoulder as Chanyeol’s hands coast over his body again, unrestricted now by fabric.

 

Kris picks Yixing up by slipping his hands under his thighs and dragging him out of Chanyeol’s grasp.  Yixing grabs onto Kris’s shoulders in surprise as Kris heaves him onto the bed, and he lands on his back with an _oof_.   Both of them loom over him, making quick work of his belt and jeans.  They leave his underwear on, though, and Yixing is both embarrassed and a little proud of his leopard-print bikini briefs.

 

“I like these,” Chanyeol says cheekily, running his fingertip lightly under the elastic and making Yixing squirm.  Kris kneels on the bed next to Yixing, having already shed his shirt, and when he leans down to kiss him, his belt buckle is cold against the heated skin of his thigh.

 

Chanyeol’s big hands splay across his inner thighs, and Yixing moans outright into Kris’s kiss, fingers seizing his hair and hanging on.  Kris laughs and thumbs Yixing’s pale nipples, making him squirm helplessly.

 

“I like them too, but take them off.” Kris murmurs, sliding one hand flat down Yixing’s sternum, across his belly until it rubs down over the tight fabric of his underwear, and Yixing wriggles impatiently under him.  Chanyeol tugs them off without preamble, stroking his hands along the smooth length of Yixing’s lean calves, and then he too is shedding clothing like it’s burning him.

 

Yixing’s dizzy and helpless when Kris nudges his thighs apart and settles between them, dragging his knees up to bracket his hips and drawing straight lines with his fingertips across Yixing’s chest and belly.  He laughs softly when Chanyeol’s hands slip around his body from behind to undo his belt buckle.  Yixing moans, digging his heels into the back of Kris’s thighs.

 

“Eager,” Kris says with a smirk.  He shifts as Chanyeol drags his jeans and boxers down his legs, jumping comically when Chanyeol stoops to sink his teeth his ass cheek.  “You, too, huh?”

 

“I don’t wanna wait anymore.” Chanyeol peeks around the side of Kris’s hip, hand coasting lightly over the ridge to grip into smooth flesh.

 

“Too bad, baby,” Kris purrs, pulling Chanyeol into a headlock.  He tips Chanyeol’s head up with fingertips on his chin, so that Chanyeol’s looking at Yixing.  “We have to take care of our guest first.”

 

“I know.” Chanyeol grins, and Kris lets him go, mussing his hair affectionately.  Yixing feels a grip at his heart; Kris and Chanyeol are clearly perfect partners in whatever this is they’re doing, and he has no idea why they’d want to include him in this.  Why they’d share anyone with each other.

 

His musings are interrupted when Chanyeol pounces on him with enthusiasm, straddling Yixing’s hips with his own and rolling them over in one violent motion so quick Yixing doesn’t even have time to yelp in surprise.  He hooks his own legs over Yixing’s bent knees, thighs pressing against Yixing’s, goofy grin on his face.

 

“You look good like this, hyung,” Chanyeol wrinkles his nose cutely, and Yixing giggles a bit hysterically.  It breaks into a moan when a hand wraps around his cock and strokes once from base to tip, and he leans his forehead against Chanyeol’s with a gasp as Kris strokes him again, pressing the pad of his thumb to Yixing’s entrance.

 

Yixing moans when Kris teases him a bit more, tracing fingers up and down the cleft; he can’t move far, restrained by Chanyeol’s leglock, so he drops his upper body against Chanyeol’s and fists his hands in his short dark hair, biting off a gasp.  He presses the bridge of his nose to Chanyeol’s collarbone and tries to control his heaving chest.

 

Kris smirks at Chanyeol as he teases Yixing with two fingers.  Chanyeol runs his hands down Yixing’s flanks, relishing the high-pitched, breathy whine that leaves his throat.

 

But it’s the wet rub of Kris’s tongue against his hole that makes Yixing’s breath break hot against Chanyeol’s neck.  “Oh my _god_.” He breathes, barely above a whisper.  “Oh, _fuck_.”

 

Kris laughs softly, stroking big hands up over Yixing’s ass cheeks to spread them.  He’s teasing with fingers and tongue, pressing just the tip of his index finger inside Yixing’s body, his own cock twitching at how tight he is.  Yixing shakes violently in Chanyeol’s arms, a high-pitched moan caught in his throat.

 

“Is he tight, hyung?” Chanyeol asks throatily.   Kris growls in response.

 

“So fucking tight, baby.” He presses another finger in, only to the first knuckle, tongue flicking around the tight entrance and drawing another moan from Yixing.  “So good.  Chanyeol, I need some lube.”

 

Chanyeol reaches for the side drawer, elbow bent awkwardly to rifle through it before handing off a half-empty bottle.  Yixing starts a little at the cold drizzle of lube over his entrance before Kris sinks both fingers deep into him, pressing down sharply.  “Good?” Kris murmurs.

 

Yixing mewls and ruts against Chanyeol’s hip once, twice, the glancing pressure just enough to set him off, and his back bows almost instantly.

 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Yixing gasps, and the way he hauls on Chanyeol’s hair has Chanyeol moaning too; then Yixing is coming, teeth digging into the flesh of Chanyeol’s collarbone as he shudders rhythmically, hot come flecking against Chanyeol’s lower belly.

 

“Holy shit,” Chanyeol echoes, as Yixing gasps out something unintelligible with his face smashed into Chanyeol’s chest.

 

“Wow.” Kris murmurs, drawing his fingers out, but Yixing throws his head wildly, almost hitting Chanyeol in the face, hips jolting backward.

 

“No!” He pants out, and Kris stops, bracing his other hand against Yixing’s hip, tips of his fingers just stretching Yixing’s entrance.  “Again!” He’s still hard, so achingly hard, and Chanyeol’s looking at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips, and the feeling of two pairs of hands gliding over his skin is enough to make his vision swim with delicious lightheadedness.

 

“Are you fucking serious?” Kris says, his voice shaking with amusement.  He slips his fingers back in again, pressing more lightly this time, stroking inside Yixing’s body to tempt out breathy whimpers and tiny shivering aftershocks.  Chanyeol kisses him, but it doesn’t last long because Yixing can’t stop moaning, losing his focus every time Kris strokes his cock or presses deep with his fingers until he’s rubbing himself shamelessly against Chanyeol’s hip.

 

“More,” Yixing begs, and his voice is shaking, “Please, more.”

 

Kris doesn’t hesitate, fitting a third finger inside, and Yixing writhes back against it, gasping against Chanyeol’s mouth.  “You want it?” Kris croons gently, flexing his hand.

 

“Kris, Kris, oh god,” Yixing sobs, and his body tenses once again, but Kris recognizes it this time and retracts his fingers swiftly, fingers gripping into Yixing’s hips to stop him from grinding to completion again on Chanyeol’s thigh.

 

“No, no, please, don’t stop,” Yixing whines desperately, shaking all over.  Kris breaks his ministrations with a lick to Yixing’s slick entrance, savoring the way Yixing’s body pitches forward under the contact.

 

Kris pulls Yixing up with an arm around his waist and starts to rearrange him; Yixing tries to help, but his eyes are glazed and he’s more hindrance than help, so he patiently lets Kris move him around until he’s straddling Chanyeol instead.

 

Chanyeol looks up at Yixing, dazed-looking and flushed, grasping at his hand as though to reassure him, but Yixing smiles back and it’s the filthiest promise Chanyeol has ever seen.  He laughs breathlessly at Chanyeol when he jumps at the coldness of lube dripping over the sensitive head of his cock.

 

“Ready, Xing?” Kris settles his hands on Yixing’s hips, and Yixing nods, gripping Chanyeol’s hands as Kris rocks his hips and presses Chanyeol’s cock against Yixing’s entrance with his other hand.  Yixing gasps, back arched, every line of his body eager and impatient and urgent as Chanyeol slides home an inch at a time, punctuated by Chanyeol’s low groan, long fingers squeezing the pale flesh of Yixing’s thighs.

 

“Holy _shit_ , you’re tight,” Chanyeol growls, eyebrows knitting as Yixing’s hips seat firmly against his own.  Yixing shivers slightly, body gripping and stroking Chanyeol’s cock so impossibly snug.

 

One rock of his hips and that’s all it takes to overload Yixing’s pleasure threshold, clenching Chanyeol’s cock so tightly it makes him gasp, and Yixing’s coming all over Chanyeol’s stomach this time, a sharp cry on his lips.

 

“You’re impossible,” Kris murmurs, swiping a hand through the mess on Chanyeol’s belly and pressing his fingertips to Yixing’s mouth, smearing come across his lips.  Yixing’s pink tongue pokes out to taste Kris’s fingers, eyelashes fluttering rhythmically.

 

“Gonna take a lot more than that to wear me out,” Yixing smirks, crooking an eyebrow at Chanyeol, his body loose and relaxed in the aftermath of his orgasm.  He leans back against Kris’s chest for a minute to catch his breath.

 

“Challenge accepted.” Chanyeol grins wolfishly up at Yixing, grabbing his hips and driving upward sharply with a grunt.  Yixing yelps in surprise, hands scrabbling over the backs of Chanyeol’s knuckles as they grip with force to hold him steady, hips pistoning rapidly, the slap of sweaty skin loud in the hotel room and overlaid with Yixing’s keening moans.

 

Chanyeol seizes Yixing high on the ribs and rolls him onto his back, pushing his knees up to his chest without once sliding out before resuming his furious pace.  It’s just like Yixing would expect from Chanyeol, a little rough around the edges and overeager, but he’s got this way of twisting his hips that’s fucking delicious, and Yixing feels his body striving for another orgasm already, that persistent hot coil in his stomach winding tighter and tighter like a spring until it’s almost ready to give.

 

Yixing would be lying if he said he didn’t fucking _love_ being multiorgasmic.

 

He’s louder this time than the last two, wailing in ecstasy as Chanyeol screws his hips in ruthlessly, and the way his body constricts as orgasm rolls through him yet again has Chanyeol’s hips stuttering, losing rhythm, and with a harsh growl he pulls out just a bit too late, spurting come over Yixing’s belly and all the way up across his nipples.

 

“Nice distance,” Kris remarks wryly and Chanyeol chokes out a laugh, rubbing himself against Yixing’s slick hip and shivering through the reverberations.

 

“I need a minute.” Yixing gulps, resting his forearm across his eyes.  “And maybe a drink.”

 

Chanyeol blinks rapidly as though slapped, then collects himself and gets up, padding to the bathroom to get some water.  Kris crawls forward between Yixing’s limp, spread legs, leaning forward to press a kiss to Yixing’s sore lips.

 

“You’re a mess.”

 

“You started it.” Yixing fires back breathlessly.

 

“Got enough in you for one more round?” Kris’s mouth travels over his chin and lower, sucking a mark into the soft skin of Yixing’s sensitive neck, and Yixing shivers pleasantly.

 

“Duizhang, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t keep up with me if you tried.”

 

Kris laughs at the dare, eyes flashing.  “I’m starting to believe you.”

 

“So fuck me already.”

 

“I thought you wanted water?” Kris murmurs even as he lines himself up to Yixing and pushes in.  He’s still impossibly tight, so hot and slick with lube, and the breath is squeezed out of his lungs as he squeezes in.  Yixing twitches, his hands flying up to cling to Kris’s shoulders.

 

“You guys started without me!” Chanyeol says in a mock whine, padding out of the bathroom with a glass of water in his hands, and Kris laughs, fitting a hand under Yixing’s shoulders to pull him into a kneeling position over Kris’s lap.  Yixing’s hand grips weakly at the glass Chanyeol offers him.

 

“Chanyeol,” Kris growls as Yixing drinks, “Yixing thinks we can’t keep up with him.”

 

“I think he’d be right,” Chanyeol crawls onto the bed behind Yixing, stroking a big hand down the arc of Yixing’s spine to rest on the curve of his ass.  “If both of us weren’t here to take care of him.”

 

“Think you can take both of us, baby?” Kris asks, and Yixing chokes violently on his swallow of water.

 

“ _What_?” Yixing gags out between bouts of racking coughs as he tries to clear his throat.

 

“We won’t hurt you,” Chanyeol murmurs, leaning against Yixing’s back to nibble at his earlobe.  “We know what we’re doing.”

 

“Do you?” Yixing raises his eyebrows, still too surprised to really register what he’s being asked to do.

 

“Well, if Kyungsoo could take it, I’m sure you’d be fine.” Kris points out.

 

“Holy shit.” Yixing gasps, partially because he’s starting to cotton on, and partially because Chanyeol traces a dry finger lightly around his stretched entrance.  “Holy fucking shit.  Okay, _okay_ , okay, yes.”

 

Kris leans back on the bed, pulling Yixing with him until they’re chest to chest lying down, to give Chanyeol better access.  Chanyeol’s fingers disappear and return slick with lube to resume their languid tracing along Yixing’s hole, and Yixing presses his hot face into Kris’s neck when one lubed finger slides in alongside Kris’s cock.

 

Doubt swirls in his mind, slowly being crowded out by the intensity of fingers and cock stretching him wide.  Neither of them are small, and Yixing isn’t sure how much he can take, but Chanyeol’s fingers—he’s got two inside now—are flexing, wrapping around alongside Kris’s cock and it’s so overwhelming, so incredibly good.  Kris’s hands are tight on his waist, fingertips digging into the ridge of his hips, lower lip caught between his teeth.  Yixing bites into Kris’s shoulder to ground himself.

 

“Oh my fucking _god_ ,” Yixing whimpers brokenly, rocking his hips back against the press of Chanyeol’s third finger.  His voice is barely audible through his desperate panting breaths, struggling to suck enough air into his lungs.  Sensation surges through his entire body and wrings a moan from his constricted throat.

 

“Ready, hyung?” Chanyeol’s fingers wiggle back and forth inside him, and Yixing wheezes something to the affirmative against Kris’s shoulder.  Chanyeol slips just the head of his slicked cock in as he withdraws his wet fingers.

 

Mangled swear words neither Kris nor Chanyeol know spill from Yixing’s mouth in a sobbing mess as Chanyeol presses in an inch at a time.  Kris fists a hand in Yixing’s hair to bring him back, and as Chanyeol slides in completely, Yixing’s vision seems to clear a little, and he tips his head up to look at Kris.

 

“Holy fucking _shit_.” Yixing moans, and his eyes seem to cross a little.  He closes them tightly again, unable to cope with the sensory input, a bead of sweat making its way down his cheek as he breathes harshly through gritted teeth.  His hair is pasted to his forehead wetly.

 

“Is it okay, hyung?” Chanyeol rumbles, leaning down to press his open mouth against the nape of Yixing’s neck.

 

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” Yixing grates out, his body shaking with the effort of controlling his movement.  “Go.  Just go.”

 

Trapped beneath the body weight of two grown men, there’s not much Kris can do except hold Yixing’s hips steady, but the slow slide of Chanyeol’s cock alongside his own and the overwhelming pressure of Yixing’s body provides more than enough stimulation.

 

When Yixing starts pushing backwards into Chanyeol’s carefully paced thrusts, he lifts his hands to Yixing’s face and presses their mouths together.  It’s not so much a kiss as Yixing gasping into his mouth and gnawing on Kris’s lower lip so hard it makes him wince.  Chanyeol’s voice has pitched into a low groan as he braces a hand on Yixing’s waist and pulls him back just a little harder.

 

The pressure, the tightness, the stimulation is too much, and Kris finds himself letting go first, his hips jerking upward in tiny, helpless thrusts as white pinpricks fleck the darkness behind his eyelids, and he comes with a groan, his fingers knotting in Yixing’s hair.  Yixing’s sobbing again, and the way Kris ruts up against him has him coming undone too with a long, high-pitched wail, pushed through the aftershocks by Chanyeol’s measured thrusts until he’s shaking with effort and utter fatigue.

 

“Hurry up,” Kris grits out after a few moments, body pulsing hotly with the additional stimulation of Chanyeol sliding up against him deep inside Yixing’s body.

 

“Fuck off,” Chanyeol snarls, his rhythm faltering, and he pushes deep with a growl and shudders to a halt, head tilted back to expose the sweaty expanse of his throat.

 

“Xing?” Kris pushes the hair out of Yixing’s face, stroking the damp strands back as Chanyeol slides out of him gingerly.  Yixing’s eyes are half-closed, showing only white beneath his lids.  “Xing, you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Yixing rasps in an exhausted, gritty voice, eyelids flickering.  “Yeah, more than fine.”

 

Chanyeol slaps Yixing on the ass lightly, and it’s a testament to how worn out he is that Yixing doesn’t even jump.  “That enough for you, hyung?” Chanyeol teases, stroking a palm over the back of Yixing’s thigh.

 

“Shut up, Chanyeol.” Yixing wheezes.  “I can’t move.”

 

Kris rolls them both onto their side, where he settles Yixing on his back.  “You want to take a shower with us?”

 

Yixing blinks and tries to sit up, flopping back down almost instantly as his shaky elbow gives way beneath his weight.

 

Chanyeol moves to assist, and between the two of them, they manage to herd Yixing into the shower, where he slumps bonelessly against the wall.  Beneath the hot spray, Kris cups Yixing’s face in his hands, and Chanyeol presses his lips to the inside of Yixing’s wrist.

 

“Did we do okay?” Kris asks, and Yixing lets out a broken sort of laugh.

 

“Ge, I’m fine.” Yixing still sounds breathless with exhaustion, but the smile that spreads across his lips is tremendously contented.  “It was great.  More than great.  Both of you.”

 

He closes his eyes as Chanyeol shampoos his hair and Kris runs a washcloth over his hot skin, too exhausted to participate but grateful nonetheless.

 

He’s asleep even before they settle into bed, Kris pressed against his back, Chanyeol on the other side with his arm draped over both of them.  Yixing wakes just slightly at the press of Kris’s lips on the back of his sensitive neck, but it’s not ticklish, just pleasant.

 

“I was wrong,” Yixing mumbles sleepily as Chanyeol kisses the bridge of his nose.  “You guys totally can keep up with me.”

 

“Sure was a fucking trick, though,” Chanyeol murmurs in response, and Yixing whacks him weakly on the arm.

 

*

 

Kris wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing incessantly, and he sits up, wincing at his sore back and legs before retrieving his phone from his pants pocket on the floor.  Chanyeol and Yixing are curled up together, Yixing’s head tucked under Chanyeol’s chin and snoring softly.  The screen informs him it’s Joonmyun calling, and he knows what it’s about already because he’s got seven missed calls flashing at the top of the screen.  It’s eleven twenty-four a.m. and Kris feels much, much too tired to be awake this early.

 

He answers it and is met with screaming before he can even say hello, so he gets up and staggers groggily into the bathroom to avoid waking the others.

 

“Kris, have you seen Yixing?  We’ve been calling him all morning and he didn’t come home, we didn’t see him leave last night, where are you?  Kris, I—”

 

“Joonmyun!” Kris cuts him off with a sleepy-sounding croak, and Joonmyun stops talking abruptly.  “Relax.  Yixing’s here with Chanyeol and I.”

 

There’s a full five seconds of silence where Kris can almost hear Joonmyun turning this little nugget of information over in his head.  Finally, he makes a half-disgusted noise.  “He’s with—oh.  Right.  Well.  Sorry to bother you.” And he hangs up without waiting for a reply.

 

Kris hangs up too and pads out of the bathroom.  Yixing and Chanyeol are still sleeping, though Yixing has rolled over and almost edged Chanyeol off the bed, resulting in Chanyeol flinging himself over Yixing’s body in a tangle of lean limbs to preserve his real estate.  Kris crawls back onto the bed and settles himself against Yixing’s side, liking the way Yixing presses closer unconsciously.

 

A little smile graces his lips as Chanyeol sleepily paws at his shoulder, and he squeezes Chanyeol’s fingers in his own and closes his eyes.  It’s _much_ too early for this.

 

 

**FIN**


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